


The Symphony Never Stops

by Mystic_apple



Series: NeroV week [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nero is a grumpy baby, V helps Nero sleep, William Blake saves the day, mega fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_apple/pseuds/Mystic_apple
Summary: Nero has a hard time sleeping because of the storm. V is willing to help.





	The Symphony Never Stops

After a long day in the blistering heat, the moon finally blessed Redgrave with a chill breeze and dark clouds that cried ice-cold rain and spat lightning. Although everything was nearly drowned in the unexpected down-pour, a certain someone took advantage of the "terrible" weather. He sat down on the crisp, clean sheets, book out in his lap, window drapes tied aside, which let whatever sliver of moonlight that wasn't covered by clouds slither through to illuminate the words printed on the pages. The rhythm of rain accompanied by the crash of thunder created a wonderful symphony fit for those who sat awake in the shade of night. Only those who saw the true beauty of such predicaments were worthy of enjoying such. A soft voice rang throughout the vacant room, reciting the story that the elegant curves of ink told:

_'In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy_

_Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead_

_The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom_

_Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity_

_He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence_

_The cut worm forgives the plow...'_

This particular work was one of his favorites. It told a collection of stories about a journey through hell, much like _Dante's Inferno_ , except in a more relevant use of diction and syntax. A crash of thunder shook the house, making the china tucked away in the cupboards tremble and the floorboards groan, but it did not stop the orchestra of words coming from the lone man against the window. 

_"V?"_

A foreign voice cut into the story, shattering the illusion of high-rising fires, dangerous chambers, and the image of the Devil himself. V looked up to find an exhausted Nero clutching the door with his now human hand while the other rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Yes, Nero? What troubles you at this hour?" Although it was obvious, he asked the question nonetheless.

"I can't sleep," the male responded, sounding like grumpy child that was rudely shaken awake by the monster beneath their bed.

V simply smiled, patting the space beside him: "Come sit, then. I shall accompany you," his voice was quiet, yet it stood out amongst the clamorous racket beyond the window.

Nero stumbled over, crawling onto the bed-- into V's inviting arms-- with his head tucked under the man's breast, limbs wrapping around his delicate torso. Frail fingers helped themselves to the white mess of hair, thumbing though soft strands in a calming manner. The act alone lulled Nero into a state of numbness-- to the edge of consciousness: the land between slumber and awareness-- but the thunder was persistent in robbing the young man of sleep. With a frustrated-laced moan, he pressed his face against V's stomach, hands covering his ears. When that didn't work, his grumpy gaze found V's playful eyes.

"How can you sit so peacefully in weather like this?" He questioned, half-lidded eyes aimlessly wandering the pale walls.

"I don't, actually," V began, holding up his little book, which held the title, _The Marriage of Heaven and Hell_ , "this type of weather makes me excited."

V was just about ready to double over in laughter from the bewildered look that Nero gave him: "It helps me read." Nero was still confused.

"Hear me out: literature is simply an art, like the ones that you see hung up on walls. Sometimes you forget that you're even reading," V explained, placing a bookmark between the pages before letting it slap close," It's like a moving picture behind your eyes, like a movie of some sorts."

"A movie? From words on a page?" Nero released a faint chortle, "You're funny, babe."

The response made V pout: "I'm serious, Nero," he said in defense, caressing Nero's soft, pale cheek. He was tempted to smack it out of annoyance, but he would never hear the end of it the next morning, "Just close your eyes, and listen. I will read to you, so your puny brain can wrap around what I'm saying."

"Hey," Nero whined, "My brain isn't puny!"

"Sush, my darling. It's time for a bedtime story," V placed a hand over Nero's eyes, and the male in his lap had no choice but to follow along (while also grumbling under his breath). The tatted male produced the book once more and held it out while his other hand returned to its prior activities: playing with Nero's hair.

_'Dip him in the river who loves water._

_A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees._

_He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star._

_Eternity is in love with the productions of time._

_The busy bee has no time for sorrow._

_The hours of folly are measur'd by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure...'_

Nero had no clue what it all meant. It was as if the words were a large lock that concealed the true meaning-- a large lock with the most complex of keys. Nevertheless, he listened on until he captured something that he could actually understand:

_'I was in a Printing house in Hell & saw the method in which knowledge is transmitted from generation to generation. _

_In the first chamber was a Dragon-Man, clearing away the rubbish from a caves mouth; within, a number of dragons were hollowing the cave,_

_In the second chamber was a Viper folding round the rock & the cave, and others adorning it with gold silver and precious stones. _

_In the third chamber was an Eagle with wings and feathers of air, he caused the inside of the cave to be infinite, around were numbers of Eagle like men, who built palaces in the immense cliffs...'_

Behind his eyelids, he saw the word that V preached of: a burning furnace in which a lone man walked, a single house that bore many chambers with vile creatures, each one doing a chore of sorts. He then panned over to a large library, glowing with the flames of hell. Generation after generation of knowledge stored within an infinite space. He could see the books; he could feel the warmth of the flames; he could smell the wood of the gigantic shelves; he could taste the toxic air on his tongue; he could hear the howls of wolves and the large steps of giants. Although stories had infinite interpretations, Nero decided to stick to his own, getting lost in the comforting fires of hell.

Soon, V quieted down when he heard soft snores in his lap. He glanced down and found Nero in a deep slumber. With a smile gracing his full lips, V leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the boy's forehead before joining him on his little journey. Even with both men asleep, curled around each other in an embrace, the storm outside was still deafening, but offered music to accompany them on their little trip. That wonderful symphony never stops.

**Author's Note:**

> Quotes borrowed from 'The Marriage of Heaven and Hell', by William Blake


End file.
